


A Measure of Honor

by orange_8_hands



Category: Star Trek, Supernatural
Genre: Asexual Supernatural Mini Bang 2016-17, Computer Viruses, Dead Dean Winchester, Dubious Science, Gen, Patricide, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, ritual suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-11-03 12:21:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10967133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orange_8_hands/pseuds/orange_8_hands
Summary: Emma's spent the last seven years on a random outpost at the edge of the Federation, doing work no one else can for Starfleet as she serves out her punishment. When a routine supply drop-off byThe Hunterturns into anything but, Emma must decide just how she wants to restore her honor in the face of overwhelming odds.





	1. the rising lift

**Author's Note:**

> **Trigger Warnings:**  
>  >Major discussions or descriptions: ritual suicide, suicidal thoughts, past patricide (aka dead!Dean)  
> >Minor discussions or descriptions: assisted suicide, ostracization and isolation/torture, violence, cult mentality (underlining actions but not direct), physical/mental torture (past), OC character deaths
> 
> **Art:**  
> [Art](http://cenedrariva.tumblr.com/post/161027440456/a-measure-of-honor-by-orange8hands-emmas) by Cenedra Riva
> 
> **Thanks:**  
>  a heartfelt thanks to my artist [Cenedra Riva](http://cenedrariva.tumblr.com/), who made _gorgeous_ art and excused my (continuous) lateness, 
> 
> the [acespnminibang](http://acespnminibang.tumblr.com/), for organizing it, 
> 
> and a running tackle hug of gratitude to my (extremely last minute) beta [mrsbluebertgreggleson](https://mrsbluebertgreggleson.tumblr.com/), who is behind 70% of the hyphens, making this fic better than it was, and is just generally a delight
> 
> **Note:**  
>  The last chapter is for notes (a dictionary in case you're unable to hover over words, the crew roster, species notes, and resources used while writing the fic.)  
> __________________________________________________________________

E -

I assume you got the formal notice, but Admiral Mills requested _The Hunter_ for the latest supply drop-offs along the Loavovinette Star. Good news - they didn't even try to shortchange you this time! Also we just finished the Symposium on Reliable Science at the Academy - Mom says hi - and I managed to snag you some extra stuff.  
  
This is my way of saying if you (illegally) ditch out with the vehicle you aren't supposed to use for long-distances to go back to Premis Coast and avoid me again, I'm keeping all the chocolate. The real, made-with-sentient-hands-and-not-a-replicator chocolate. So be at the damn drop-off this time.

K  
  
                                                                                ~

Dear Kevin, 

Your usage of the phrase 'good news' to tell me the quartermasters are no longer actively infringing on their job to punish me indicates my position within the Federation and Starfleet clearly, and also suggests your mom was remiss in her efforts to educate you on the Standard definition of 'good.' Perhaps when the groveling finally pays off, Channing will offer to tutor you in basic word instruction. Or maybe your First Officer will finally tire of your inaccuracies and cut off your head so your actions can no longer offend. 

May your weapon bring honor, 

Emma

(Chocolate is for the weak, and Premis Coast has ion storms. Also, at the time it was not illegal.)

                                                                                ~

BECAUSE NO ONE THOUGHT YOU COULD GET A SHORT-RANGE GROUND VEHICLE TO DO THAT.

                                                                                ~  
  
Dear Kevin, 

A curious position, considering it is also the only reason I am on this rock and not dead.  
  
May your weapon bring honor,   
  
Emma  
                                                                                ~

Last time we talked about _Mauk-to'Vor_ I cried. I WILL send you footage.  
  
                                                                                ~

_bIHnuch_  
         
                                                                                ~

So glad for the opportunity to learn more Klingon. I definitely do not get enough of being insulted in languages I don't know when dating Channing. We're three days out, be there Emma.  
  
                                                                                ~

The Starov Base Emma lives on is a mix-match of advanced technological systems and low-tech realities. Base, actually, is an overly generous description, considering the size, purpose, restrictions, and measured isolation resemble the kind of prison only Starfleet can dream of when they technically would like the mind residing there to be sane at the end of their punishment, but only because they have a lot of plans to use it beyond the set terms.

The 'work room' is by far the largest, a small square that holds a range of computers and a battered table Emma keeps spare parts on. Her bedroom is - according to Kevin - the same size of his cell from when he was taken prisoner by Crowley, and holds a slim mattress, low bookshelf, and wardrobe half-filled with wrongly sized Academy uniforms, because quartermasters are petty and passive-aggressive in all possible actions. The bathroom holds the sonic shower, toilet, and sink, plus the shelf Emma built. The kitchen is more a pantry that consists of a replica and pallets of dry freeze food than a room with the necessary appliances needed to perform the act of cooking. There is one window within the whole structure, a small circular frame that was long ago blacked out by Emma during the longest days of the year, when the suns would pierce her eyes until she had to close them against the gathering moisture and take that last step of shaming her people. Better to get lost in the numbers and coils of her machines and pretend the ticking timer in the back of her head is nonexistent, so that days pass without anything to distinguish them but the demands of her body.

Using encrypted technology and knowing Kevin (and even in the wildly diverging paths their lives have taken, she's not sure she knows anyone better), she estimates the rough time frame to within five Standard minutes and bets herself one of the promised chocolate bars if she is correct. She spends the time cleaning; washing the pile of clothes and organizing the various parts on her table and sweeping the whole structure. It is less about Kevin and his approval (both because Kevin is a slob when given a chance and because Kevin would hardly abandon her at this juncture just because she didn't adequately keep her prison nice looking) and more because the drop-off will be accompanied by at least two other members of Starfleet, most likely security, and there will at one point or another be a long list of people with too much power over her fate who will read their detailed reports. Emma can and will present a rational image to her long-reaching guards, and if her motives fluctuate between the acceptable and the damaging, she is at the very least confident in her ability to fool their future evaluations.

On the third day she emerges from the structure thirty Standard minutes before she assumes _The Hunter_ will arrive. There is a bench chair she has painstakingly put together over the years - for when the confining walls become too much and she needs the fresh breeze across her skin - and she sits there now, head carefully tilted to take in the expanse of sky without causing her neck undue stress. It is this region's early summer, and warmth comes from the spiral heat of the suns still at a pleasant stage, for the given value of pleasant that can ever be found on this region.  
  
She knows more about _The Hunter_ than she should - Starfleet engineering files are still incredibly easy to hack - and yet seeing the way it hovers there like a bright spark of possibilities against the deep blue of the morning light makes her want to shiver. The separating drop-off shuttle is as close as she will get to the ship and the fanciful symbolism of freedom (escape) it represents, and yet she has to clasp her hands against the yearning to be there, to fly it like she was trained to do. Emma comes from a species that exists in constant movement, and being grounded rubs against the jagged edges of control when the opposite literally flies in her face to remind her of her dirt-side sentence.

(She spends most days missing Kevin more than words could adequately express, but she went to the Premis Coast last time because she is physically stronger than Kevin, more highly trained than whichever two security guards come with him, and she could get so _far_ with even the Class F shuttlecraft used for ship-to-planet drop-offs. Her people were not made to be stagnant, and in this she does credit to her culture.)   

The shuttle finally detaches, and she watches as it jerks across the remaining distance between Emma and _The Hunter_ with none of the grace she expects _._ She assumed Kevin would be flying, but even drunk he should be better than this; the sky is empty except for _The Hunter,_ the pathway is so simple it would not even be used in one of those overly ridiculous hypothetical tests navigation courses at the Academy love to create worksheets of, and yet it moves like one of those old-fashioned pinball machines. It almost seems like there is no pilot, but the movement is just controlled enough to suggest someone is trying their best to pilot a shuttle no longer working, even though regulations state the ship's transporter should have beamed them on board if there was no quick fix.

Her mind automatically does the calculations, speed and distance and impact force, forever since she stood below a ship and estimated how quickly it would fail in front of her. Four point five one three Standard minutes before the shuttle hits the ground at its current and assumed future speed, and there is a clawing wave of premature grief she battles back quickly. Kevin may or may not be on that ship, and either way she has four point five zero two Standard minutes before the shuttle hits the ground and everyone aboard dies on impact.

She sets aside the question of what happened to _The Hunter_ and its shuttle; it is logical to assume she cannot count on either to save the people inside, and that is her priority. She has no transporter, and it would take too long to cannibalize the replica and turn it into one. (She knows exactly how long, because she taunts herself with the temptation of doing so all the time.) There is not enough time or supplies to solve for how to turn ground into a malleable enough cushion to absorb the impact. She could analyze and then repair what caused the shuttle to behave this way, or even take control of _The Hunter's_ transporters to directly beam out the passengers, but time is finite and it will take at least 68% of the remaining time to gain access to their systems, to say nothing of the repairs or calculations needed when she is currently unsure how many people are even aboard the shuttle.

These thoughts pass through quickly even as she updates her calculations on when impact will occur, and her body is already in motion towards the tiny garage attached to the structure that holds her (illegal) short-range ground vehicle. She speeds through warm-up and keeps one eye on the shuttle as it tries to (however marginally) slow itself using air resistance, and then she takes the vehicle meant to go less than 250 yards on the ground into a vertical lift that suggests gravity should happen somewhere else. 

There are two methods to stop a hurtling object - one is to come from behind and catch it, pulling until the object can be slowed, and the other is to come in front and act as an immovable object, pushing until momentum has been reversed - and both have their own set of problems in this situation. To come from below means positioning the vehicle so that the shuttle does not ricochet off, absorbing enough of the impact force to lock it in place without creating too much damage to either vessel, and slowing the shuttle down enough so it will not crush itself or the vehicle she is in upon landing. To come from above means using computational precision to fly directly above the shuttle as it free falls, connect the vessels using mechanical straps meant to hold a weight 2000% less heavy than the shuttle (not even accounting for the additional weight of the bodies and six-month supplies onboard it), pull the shuttle using half of the already insufficient amount of power because only one of the thrusters will be usable if something is attached underneath the vehicle, and disengage right before impact so the vehicle does not crash land on top of the shuttle. Both options, of course, mean trying to control a careening descent in the rapidly closing small distance between the shuttle's current position and the ground, but the shuttle members have a 24.2% better chance of survival if she comes from below, even if her own survival decreases by 57.3%.     

(Emma remembers very little of her mother; she was taken at a younger age than usual for her Tribe, and questions of that nature were forbidden. Sometimes there's the lightest whiff in the air that reminds her of the way her mother's hair smelled, a phantom feeling of arms around her shoulders, but beyond that are just partial fantasies born out of a desire to access her past.  
  
And yet, it is still her mother whose face so often comes to her right before she faces her death. Maybe that is why Emma has always walked the fine edge, never fully committing to sending herself to _Sto-vo-kor_ but too willing to throw herself at Death. If she could, she would grab the locket her mother tied to her before she left for training; instead, she keeps her hands on the controls and hurdles towards the shuttle.)

If there was more room between shuttle and ground, she could catch up to the shuttle, fly parallel with their downward spiral until she could feel the exact speed the shuttle was moving in, and use instruments to double-check her visual measurements, boost her vehicle until it was just far enough ahead she could slide under the shuttle, and then release the grappling hooks and attach the two vessels, absorbing the weight and overpowering the shuttle until she controlled the descent, and then thrusting with all power until she either stopped the shuttle in the air or they hit the ground at a decelerated rate. It has been seven years since she did something more complicated than fancy aerial moves in a ground-range vehicle, and the majority of her experience with using a vessel to slow down another vessel from below was on a few sims during one of her accelerated courses, with an actual spacecraft and not just a vehicle she rebuilt so that it could fly in the first place. 

Unfortunately, there isn't enough time for that. Instead, Emma calculates the trajectory and brings the vehicle below where the shuttle will pass on its downward pathway, watching the radar on-screen and trying to fly the vehicle just slightly below the shuttle using rapid-fire calculations to measure the distance between the two vessels. She centers the vehicle and releases the grappling hooks at the last possible second, cracking her head against the roof of the vehicle as the two vessels do something that resembles more crashing than the soft catch Emma was aiming for. She manages to keep hold of the vehicle and the speed of both vessels, using _tafar-wonil-tal_ to compartmentalize the pain just enough to focus on the rest of the task before her. The grapples and vehicle groan under the combined accelerating mass of the two vessels, loud enough she can hear it over the ringing of her own ears.

Hopelessly outweighed, she tries to cradle the shuttle, matching its speed and working to slow it down with all the power her vehicle offers. She sights the ground as best she can with double vision, and counts off in her head as she strains the controls upwards. At the rate they are going, she will not be able to stop or reverse the vessels as she had hoped, but she may still be able to slow them down enough that the impact does not kill them all.  
  
Her muscles are shrieking as she braces her still entirely too-fragile body, and she screams out the _cukee_ cry as the ground finally meets them. The vessels hit with such force that they immediately roll, and Emma's body slams into all sides of the crushed vehicle.

She wakes up, or something like it. There is an awareness of pain waiting for her first movement, but currently there is a slight cushion of shock that keeps her from experiencing it, and she marvels for a moment that she technically survived what had 5.3% odds of working.

Time and sound start to seep back into her awareness. Amazons were genetically enhanced for violence, both enacting and receiving it. That her battle was with an inanimate object makes no difference to the biological systems sluggishly working to keep her body intact, and she marvels at the large metal rod sticking out from her lower-right stomach. She knows this is shock, knows her injuries are serious and those of the people aboard the shuttle must be too, knows no help is coming if _The Hunter's_ transporters and other shuttles do not work. 

There is not much she can do, she discovers, trying to shift slightly and realizing the chair caved around her body on impact. (She must congratulate the manufacturer on such superior craftsmanship, as her own additions did not touch the general safety options of the vehicle. Obviously she was remiss in her self-assigned duties.) She is stuck, and bleeding out, and refuses the fear that suggests each breath will be her last. If even one of the people on the shuttle lived (and Kevin, it needs to be Kevin because all lives are equal in worth but she _knows_ his mind), then she has accomplished an honorable death.

(Pain must be getting the better of her; even knowing the Elders will debate if such small actions can cleanse all the shame she brought her Tribe, completing a worthy sacrifice should bring comfort in her last moments. And yet...)

Her ear starts to make a new noise until suddenly there is a Starfleet-dressed Acamarian in front of her, tricoder in hand. The words they're saying can be assumed Standard, and faintly Emma wonders if she has lost her hearing, and how permanent it will be.

Her jaw - harshly clenched since the shuttle first started to fail - is hard to pop, and her slurred question of Kevin's name gets lost in the moan. If she wasn't defective, she should be demanding her _mevak_ so that she could send herself to _Sto-vo-kor_ , but she is, and instead she watches with the little vision left to her as the medic performs their duties against the tangled mess she turned her body into. Finally, the medic presses a hypospray against her upper arm and she quickly falls into a darkness without end.


	2. asking

Emma lives in an isolated structure across a barren world, air breathable to a number of species but an otherwise inhospitable land. She is given supply drops twice a year in person and subjected to weekly reports over airspace, and otherwise she spends day after relentless day in the confines of her own mind. She is Amazon and there are different rules to isolation (torture), but the quiet has sounds unlike any other and she has learned them all. 

This is not silent; the steady hums of a filtered world, the soft swishing of moving bodies, the light thumps behind working machines. Though Emma has yet to discover the specific variables that make Starfleet ships different from all others, her body recognizes what her mind cannot logically differentiate and she is mentally prepared when she opens her eyes.

(Captain Dean Winchester was beloved in the Federation, as the small freckled face that stood as symbolism for the wreckage of the K1il-Star, as the daring hero of the El Wars, as the Captain of the famous _The Impala_. It is only in death that the Federation was forced to learn about his connections to the Defigere Et Depurgare Crown, and as Emma discovered in the long days and nights spent sifting through the footage of the aftermath when loneliness pressed down on all sides, there was not an insubstantial amount of people - many found in Starfleet - who blamed Emma less for her actions and more for those actions revealing the truth behind their symbol of Free Will, Determination, and the Starfleet Way. To be a dead hero is to be a legend, to be a toppled hero a travesty; to be the one who both killed and toppled the hero is to prepare for a life of people who will see your one action above any and all others you perform. Someone appreciated what Emma tried to do for their fellow shipmates enough to save her; that will never be the universal reaction to her though.)

The medical bay of _The Hunter_ looks similar to other Starfleet medical bays: the rows of semi-private biobeds, biofunction monitors blinking with information above the seven occupied biobeds that line the room. They have no names to signify who lies below them, but Amazons have excellent eyesight and the double vision from earlier is gone, and Kevin is in one of them.  
  
Emma relaxes slightly and takes stock of her own body now that her location and Kevin's have both been ascertained. The double vision is gone, the pounding headache and broken bones lessened to faint aches. Her hand lifts and even through the sheet she can feel the scar where the metal rod stuck out; she's unsure if the scar takes several uses of the dermal regenerator or the medical officer assumed as an Amazon additional permission was needed to remove scars that did not impede function.

"I am awake," Emma says loudly, mostly to make sure her hearing and jaw are performing correctly, with the added benefit of alerting the nearest medical personnel to her consciousness. The Acamarian she remembers from before turns at the sound and rushes over, eyes flickering over the biofunction monitor. Emma noticed the way her hand pressed to her comm, and is therefore not surprised when Lieutenant Commander Doctor Aaron Birch and Lieutenant Commander Tracy Bell run in before she can even start to ask the standard bedside questions.  
  
(In honor of Kevin's Terran desire for privacy, Emma refrained from doing deep background checks and memorizing information on every member of _The Hunter_ , but he is senior staff and Emma was not willing to let some _rive'es-nerek_ be in charge of watching his back, especially when she could not be there as immediate back-up. Regardless of her current status in Starfleet, she has several strings she can pull if she needs to, and for Kevin she would yank them.)

Bell stands partially behind her. Emma assumes it is because Bell is underestimating the peripheral eyesight of Amazons and wants Emma to be unable to see her, and not because she worries about overcrowding someone who has been without physical contact for over a year. Emma shifts minutely and sees Bell tense further; yes, her reason is the former.

Meanwhile, Birch introduces himself and immediately begins to take closer readings, double-checking his scanning with non-technological tests and making copious notes. He is not the most invasive medical personnel she has ever dealt with - there was one doctor at the Academy that liked to hypospray you if you got within his vicinity, whether you were his patient or not, so she has a low standard, and at least Birch tells her before he starts any new tests - but it has been seven years and she can feel her body reacting in ways that will lead to Bell using her phaser, though hopefully on the lowest setting. She wants information more than she wants to be triple-checked she did not die; she has been out for at least several hours and her injuries from the crash would not present unusually, they would have caught something by now.

"I request information on Lieutenant Commander Tran and the other individuals in the shuttle."

Birch finally takes a step away, glancing at Bell with a frown.

"Birch," Bell says, and then probably mouths something to him, but Emma keeps her eyes trained on Birch and cannot see Bell to confirm it.  
  
"Well, _you're_ gonna be fine, as will Tran. Paterson died on impact. And Borgins, Borgins will make it."

"Birch," Bell says again.

"I know what I'm doing," Birch snaps back, then modulates his voice to continue with Emma. "You've been out coming on thirteen hours, and you're in observation for the next twelve. We fixed all your broken bones - fifteen, I'll print out the list if you're keeping a record - and put your skull back into place. You had a metal rod sticking out of your lower-right stomach, so we pulled it out and fixed your organs. Needs another two runs from the dermal regenerator if you don't want the scar. Just checked your hearing and eyesight and everything looks fine there. You may feel some aching or tingling but that's normal for the next twelve hours. You're gonna need another check-up forty-eight hours after observation ends. Bell," and he waves to Bell, laboring under the misconception Emma has not read senior staff files, "is your babysitter, and Cap'll be by in an hour, so keep the rest of your questions for her. I got other duties, but they'll call me if you notice anything off, and Nurse Chang can do the dermal for you in another hour if you want. Thank you," he adds abruptly, and strides away through the door to one of the offshoot private medical rooms.

Bell moves slightly so she can perch on the bedside stool, still outside of Emma's prone reach, one hand resting casually on her hip like Emma wouldn't notice the phaser just below it. Emma moves slow to keep from startling her, but pulls the gown up and studies the scar for a moment before pushing it back down. She'll keep it; she is vain enough to want it, the proof of courage.

They spend the next hour in silence, as Bell will not answer any questions and Emma will not give her the satisfaction of trying to ask them. Professionals in charge of threat assessments and security do not share, and she adopts the blank expression and careful awareness of one well. (They do, however, exhibit faulty reasoning - Emma is not a threat to Kevin and is only a low-risk threat to any other crewmembers, and meanwhile there was a concentrated attack against the computer systems on the ship and shuttle. Watching Emma sit out the rest of her recovery could be given to any security officer.)  
  
Nurse Chang, who turns out to be the Acamarian from earlier, comes by and offers the dermal regenerator.

"No," Emma says, "but I would like to extend my gratitude for your actions earlier. I estimated I would be dead within four Standard minutes without intervention."

Nurse Chang offers the Acamarian version of a smile, lips closed with a slight bow to the left. "I was glad to fulfill my duties; your actions saved two of our crewmates. Medical," and she slides a look at Bell, "is in your gratitude, as is our Captain."  

"I would then intrude and ask for further details of Lieutenant Commander Tran's condition; in accordance to his personnel records I am invited to second stage medical knowledge."

"Oh," Nurse Chang says, and verifies the information in her PADD. "Well, for the most part the bone and dermal regenerator took care of his injuries, though he'll have to go in for another session to completely remove all scars. We had to use cellular microsutures to repair his diaphragm and liver, but the sensors show his recovery is excellent. The real worry was the broken neck; standard protocol is to put him in a medical coma, and we'll slowly bring him out of it in ten hours, but everything looks fine." She offers another smile, though it vanishes quickly when she glances at Bell, and leaves with a reminder she can be called if Emma changes her mind about her own scar and the dermal regenerator.

It is strange, Emma reflects, that Bell receives the looks Emma was expecting to be bestowed on herself. She is unsure why; nothing in the senior staff files suggests the animosity between Birch and Bell, though Emma is possibly wrong in assuming it is Birch's attitude that filtered throughout the rest of the Medical Department.

"If you are amenable we can use the forced time to acquaint ourselves," Emma finally offers. "I will refrain from all questions about current Starfleet operations.” Bell looks at her. "I am always interested in knowing the crew Kevin mentions in his letters.”

Emma can see the brief war behind that mask: interest versus professionalism, the battle she remembers across a number of guards’s faces during the aftermath of _ho-rah'es'toi_ , inside the eyes of students and instructors alike when they met the first and only Amazon to enter into Starfleet, or even arguably Federation space.

She doesn't know which way Bell would fall, but it is a moot point when a flash of movement in the corner of her eye reveals Captain Claire Novak finally stopping by. 

Bell pulls out one of the small hard-backed stools kept underneath the biobeds for Novak and moves to the other side of Emma's bed so that they can more easily box Emma in if she makes a move against them. Novak sprawls slightly when she sits, just subtle enough for the question of insult to be broached in one's mind, not overt enough to be able to win an argument in its case. Otherwise she matches perfectly what the diplomatic training seminars try to make Starfleet Officers into - the curiously blank face, the open body language that hides the tensing of trained muscles, the projected air of someone willing to listen.  
  
Starfleet was heavily Terran based - above and beyond what it should have been as a Federation organization - but this has Vulcan principles all over it, and as an Amazon (even if she didn't have Starfleet training), it is easy to match. Again, she dismisses Bell and focuses on the new person, the supine position on the bed doing the work of keeping her body language from looking too tense.

"Captain," Emma says, making sure her eyes flick to the bars on Novak's uniform, bowing her head slightly in respect of the rank. "I am Emma, Clan Androktones of the Molpadia Tribe."

"Claire Novak," she offers back. There is the slightest lift of her eyebrow, like she knows just how unnecessary the introduction is. On both sides. "I'd like your incident report of the event."

Emma is thorough and unemotional as she summarizes the near-disaster - her realization that both the shuttle and transporter systems were not working, the quick calculations on how best to slow down the shuttle, and her subsequent actions to put her plan in motion.

(She does not mention Kevin. She does not mention the brief flash of her mother's face. She does not mention the always fleeting and quickly denied desire to send herself to _Sto-vo-kor_.)

"Impressive,” Novak  says when she finishes. "That was quick thinking and strong flying. I'll add this and my recommendation to the report I send to Starfleet, but for now I want to personally thank you for your efforts earlier. You saved two of my crew, and tried your damnedest for the third."

"I was pleased to be of service," Emma says, bowing her head again. "And when will I be delivered back to the Starov Base?"

There's a pause, then Novak drums her fingers against her knee where her hand was resting, abruptly coming out of the calm slouch and leaning closer to the bed with an odd intensity. "Dr. Birch says you need medical monitoring for another twelve hours and a check up in two days. Medical regs say I can't transport a patient somewhere without medical care if they still need monitoring and follow-up, which your base doesn't have."

"Unless the patient and CMO sign off on it," Emma points out.

"But even if you both did, you correctly surmised the problem with the ship's systems. You know there's no way I can safely get you back dirt-side until we fix the issue."

"Yes." Emma offers the faintest smile. "But the unsafe ways are not always a deal-breaker when it comes to me."

"It is to me," Novak says, voice flat, before she lightens it. "In addition, my First Officer thinks you can be helpful."

Emma does her best to keep her face from showing anything. "I assume they are the only ones."

"You'd be surprised," Novak offers vaguely.

"Yes. Yes I would."

Novak cracks a grin at that, sharp and lovely, though it fades fast. "It's taken out several systems in the last fourteen hours, and is probably going after more. It's been two weeks since what is now recognizably the first attack, and we've only just narrowed down what it is. I don't need to tell you what kind of danger this poses, or how long the backup system lasts." 

"No, you do not. However, there is very little I am able to do."

" _Allowed_ to do, you mean." Novak is quiet for a moment, eyes flickering from Kevin's bed to Emma. "I am formally requesting your help, Ensign."

It doesn't mean much; it is the barest of protections and easily circumvented, an open chance for Starfleet to extend their control over her and still give a hit to a Captain who makes more enemies than friends among the brass. There are more rules demanding her removal than there are medical regulations making her stay; the ways off this ship are not deal-breakers to Starfleet or herself. And despite the commentary, there are few on this ship that would not rather throw her out an airlock in deep space.

"Then tell me what you know so far."  


	3. warning signs

Novak brings her up to date as they travel to the small conference room outside of the bridge, Bell following their heels. The first attack was on the communication panel two weeks ago, a quick blip that shorted out their circuits for less than a moment; Communication and Engineering ran a systems check and came back with an answer pointing at the current round of glitches the supply pick-up base had been going through as they did a system-wide upgrade. Both departments kept a close eye on it, but could not find any evidence it traveled further than that, and the blip itself was sorted out easily.

Two weeks later, just as the shuttle was separating from the ship to complete their last drop-off, the communication and transporter systems suddenly stopped working. Within five Standard minutes, three more systems had been infected (including the shuttles), Novak had declared Emergency Green Protocol and the crew was scrambling to figure out what the virus was and how to stop it as the separate backup generator system kept the necessary sections of the ship running. As of now, fourteen systems have confirmed interaction with the virus and all have to be thoroughly cleaned. The second system guide would keep them dead in the air for another nine days before fatal failure. They have another ten hours before Starfleet realizes they have gone silent, and then it depends on what exactly they were willing to do about it, and what assumptions they would make.

"Channing rebooted our comms to a closed circuit so we're able to use them," Novak finishes as they reach the room. "But we're still double-checking no one is listening in."

Bell darts ahead and uses muscles to aid the doors manual override, and then Emma is stepping into her first bridge crew meeting seven years after her last one.

Novak offers quick introductions. "My First Officer and Chief Science Officer Alex, Chief Tactical Officer Krissy Chambers, Chief Operations Officer Josephine Barnes, Chief Engineering Officer Ben Braeden, Chief Pilot Asher Smith, and you know Chief Communication Officer Channing Ngo. Everyone, Ensign Emma has agreed to help."  

There is no argument - maybe they already had this battle - but the reaction is hardly welcoming, especially among Chambers, Smith, and Braeden. Alex offers a respectful nod and Channing offers that same grimace she always does, that helpless mix of old wariness and older friendship. Barnes is the only one who seems to be neutral, or just prioritizes her reaction below the help Emma can offer.  

"Update," Novak says, skimming through the tablet of reports Alex hands her as they all sit at the table. Emma follows the silent order in Bell's body language to sit between her and Barnes, leaving her across from Chambers.

"We can track the virus," Barnes starts. "We have the pathway it took and can map the possible pathways it can continue to take through our systems. While we can't stop it, our blocks can slow it down. However, power limits means we can either cover all possible pathways and slow it down a little, or focus on the top likely pathways and make a larger dent in its speed."

"How many likely pathways are there?"

Alex provides the numbers. "We have it narrowed down to twelve with a 77% likelihood, seventeen with a 82% likelihood. Until we know more about the virus or who's behind it, that's as good as it will get."

"If we let it infect three more systems, we can bring the certainty up to the early 90s and narrow it down to seven systems," Barnes says. "But if we place the blocks the data matrix will be obsolete, and we're going to have to start over."

"There's also the possibility the virus has a workaround and any attempts to block it will just send it along one of the other pathways," Braeden adds bluntly. "We can't isolate it, not yet. I'm not even sure how long the blocks are going to keep it busy."

"It's a reasonable assumption," Barnes argues.

"No, it's not," Braeden says. "Look, Captain, I've never seen anything like this. None of us have, not at this table and not in my department. Whoever is behind this is _smart_. Starfleet barely has the first stages of a  cascade virus, and the one taking us out is about two technological breakthroughs above that. The sample tests we did suggests there's a better chance blocks are just going to make it move faster once it gets through them."

"It doesn't just learn; it recreates itself, you mean," Novak says.

"Yes."

"Where are we on reaching Starfleet?"

"The communication system is toast. Working on the other systems gives the virus something else to attack and in the distraction we can use them in brief spurts, like we did for the transporter," Channing says, indicating Emma with her hand, "but that's because we got into those systems quick enough to salvage some control. We have a better chance of creating an emergency one shot and bouncing it to the nearest base."

"What do you need?"

"Help from some engineers and stellar cartography. The main concern is power. We're going to have to take it from the backup generator to make sure it isn't infected." 

"Aaron's working on getting Med Bay compacted," Alex says. "We have a little room in the gravity values but the Terran and Natrin crewmembers will especially feel it, and that will in turn slow down the crew's efficiency. Even then that doesn't offer a lot of experimental room."

"We can do the same compaction with crew quarters," Barnes says.

"There's also the weapons and shield values," Chambers says. "But that means we'll be even more of a sitting target for whatever's crawling out there. As far as we can currently tell, nothing is out there. There's a reason this assignment was out of the way, and there was nothing on the scanners suggesting anything unusual before we arrived. But this was a coordinated attack on this ship, and like Ben said, whoever is behind this is smart. The longer this attack goes on for, the less likely there's someone using a cloaking device our scanners didn't pick up waiting to attack us, but there's a growing likelihood someone is on their way."

"They'll win against us either way," Alex says. "We'd die in the attempt to run, and our shields and weapons won't last long if they have advanced tech."

"It'll be more of a fight than that," Chambers argues. "Weapons don't just mean pointing and shooting; we have strategies for effective defense and offense, even without the rest of the ship online."

"They'll win," Alex repeats.

"What are the chances Starfleet will get the signal?" Novak asks Channing.

Channing pauses, lips slightly pursed in the way Emma remembers; Channing used to practice her seminar presentations on her and Kevin. "We can build it and we can send it out, but someone has to be there to _read_ it. We also have to build a wrap around because it's going to automatically head for the closest base, and that's the one below us." 

"Why can't we send a signal from the Starov Base?" Bell says.

"Because there's no one _there_ ," Alex says, voice saying everything the blank mask of her face doesn't, and then, much more neutrally, "You want to send someone down there?"

"Channing just said we have partial control of the transporter system."

"I was being overly generous," Channing snaps. "We aren't sending Emma back there." Surprise at her own intensity evident in her widening eyes, she quickly adds, "Even if Ben didn't want her help with the virus, she can help build the communication device." 

"I can go down," Bell says. "It means we don't use power we can't afford to lose, and Starfleet still gets the message."

Barnes shakes her head. "The transporter is too unstable."

"You can bypass the transporter altogether," Emma says. Her voice is steady and clear and she looks directly at Novak. "You have a thruster pack on this ship. Give me a suit and I'll fly it down to send out the message."

Novak narrows her eyes, but it's Alex who says, "The point of bringing you in was to use your engineering expertise."

"As important as informing Starfleet is, priority is on eliminating the virus," Chambers says, even as Smith is saying, "I know how to use the pack too."    

Novak stands up, relaying orders to each crewmember with singular focus. "Josephine, stay in contact with Aaron and work with Penelope on compacting ship space; close down as many possible wings, but don't touch gravity values yet. Work with Ben on getting those seventeen blocks up; I'd rather try to slow it down, and we can learn more based on its reaction. Krissy, keep working with Tracy on figuring out who the fuck is trying to destroy my ship; I'm taking power from the weapons if we need it, so work out a couple of strategies in case we get a visitor. Channing, take the personnel you need and get building; I want it as backup if we need it. Asher, get your favorite nav for a second opinion and map out how exactly you’re going to get down and back up without me having to call your brother about your bleeding body. Work with Channing to figure out how to relay messages between the ship and the base without the communication system and have someone in the diplomatic corp give you a review on the best method for reaching someone who won't be a colossal waste of time at Starfleet. Ben, give all the intel you have on the virus so far to Emma; we'll meet you in engineering. Everyone, keep Alex and me updated on every stage of progress and unless you're in a hot moment, meet back here in four hours. Dismissed."    

They exited quickly, even Bell with her barely there pause as Chambers started to argue about how to trace an unknown virus. Barnes was already on her comm and Channing was telling Braeden who she needed and Smith who he could take.  
  
Only Alex remained seating, watching Emma with more distrust than she started the meeting with, and as soon as the door shuts she raises one eyebrow in what only a fool who never met a Vulcan would read as polite interest. "Are we keeping you from something?"

"Please restate your question for clarity."

"You are strangely insistent on leaving this ship."

"Negative. My skillset is twofold; I merely offer one in place of another. Regulation states informing Starfleet of such an obvious breach is a high priority. I therefore offered my help accordingly." 

Novak drops back into her chair, but Emma does not look away from Alex. She can feel Novak's careful regard. "There something you want to tell us?"

"During the meeting I was reminded of my previous Captain and found you just as effortlessly commanding." There's a sudden silence loud enough for a heartbeat to be heard. Emma does not smile. "He was a good Captain," she adds. "The comparison is a compliment."

She is waiting for Novak to demand... something, a test of _loyalty_ , but instead she flashes that grin again, like lightning escaping a bottle. "Long as you aren't planning to end the relationship the same way."

"Not at all, Captain."

Novak nods to the extra tablet as it pings. "Ben sent you all the findings on the virus they've discovered. Read it while I make a quick stop on the bridge and then I'll swing by to take us down to engineering."

Alex and Novak head to the door, Novak pausing for one quick glance back. "Nice distraction technique, but I'm going to find out why you want back so badly on that hunk of rock when my ship's no longer in emergency." Emma can hear her telling Alex last-minute instructions, and Emma grabs the tablet to start reading.

                                                                                ~

The majority of the mourning footage consisted of the once potential victims (or their chosen representative among their friends and family) Dean Winchester had saved - or tried to, at least. In the immediate aftermath, there was commentary from those who served with Dean Winchester, who would name him under personal terms, but the more information about the ties to the Crown that came out, the less likely the news media was able to get anything but a terse 'no comment' from them as they did their best to save their own careers, the ripples of his actions spreading throughout the Academy class he graduated with, his bridge crew tainted even as some were cleared of all charges. The swell of anger, betrayal, the sweeping wave of emotions that echoed in the air of well-researched conspiracy, that crashed into riots, screaming chants outside the courthouses, tales once thought the result of pettiness and jealousy.

They called for her life, her safety, a confusing mixture of defense and attacks from all manner of sources, several members of _The Hunter_ bridge crew among them. Emma did not watch many of them - just Kevin, dark pockets of insomnia under his eyes, face gaunt and still sporting scars from Crowley's cruel hand, the interview he gave while the world was still screaming for her blood.

(Just Benjamin Braeden, the repeating news clip of him accepting the last of the medals they gave to a dead Dean Winchester, and later, the quick ducking of the back of his head into the building to return them.)

It doesn't take long to get an overview for how Braeden likes to divide his department; most of his crew were on the front lines with Barnes’s, switching off in four-hour shifts to relax tired eyes and cramping hands as they battled to keep each infected system from completing shut down and each possible system from being triggered. He has one group - the one Novak went with to lend a hand - in the literal engine rooms, trying to eke out mechanical workarounds to keep the ship steady in dead air. Those not focused on the virus's infection mechanism or the payload activity are in the larger lab across the ship's hallway, trying to create an actual isolation and termination code to take the virus out, a steady hum of noise spilling out as each new realization from a front liner were relayed to them in person (since the comms were not completely cleared yet) from somewhere else on the ship.   
  
"And here's the group working on the trigger," Braeden finishes, pausing just inside the last lab. It holds a long table of nine engineering members (four on one side, five on the other) and an immediate temperature drop that has nothing to do with the air control system. (Before Dean Winchester was a Captain, he was - among other things - a first-class Engineering Officer, a section in their Academy books, and a popular lecturer when he was state-side; even putting aside how a department head's opinions trickle into their officers's minds, Emma wasn't going to win any popularity contests among engineers.)  
  
He ticks off their names. "Wilson, Cagen, Gruten, Li, Salas, Prak, Lithup of Ketel, Fevun, and Cohen. Set her up and use her how you want."  
  
He knocks on the side of the door as he leaves, and Emma doesn't pause before settling into the open space at the end of the table. Emma spent her life in hostile environments - it's what happened when you killed a beloved figure of the galaxy, when you showed up several sub-departments worth of students as a hobby at the Academy (electrical engineering, computer engineering, computer programming, and computational science and engineering, she left a number of brokenhearted professors when she declared her focus in piloting), when you were the only Amazon in the Federation, when you were a member of the Clan Antroktones among the Molpadia Tribe, a Molpadia Tribe member among Amazons. Seven years under the watchful eyes of Starfleet through a screen that could be turned off was an aberration; the weight of a disapproving crowd is something Emma is very, very familiar with. 

The group is sharing a larger platform while running solo tasks, and Wilson flings an access code to her screen, disdain almost dripping off her. "Logic bomb's been hiding for two weeks, but we know the exact moment it was added into our system and we know when it went into effect. Cagen, Cohen, and Li are doing pre-blip from two weeks ago, Salas and I are doing post-blip from two weeks ago; Fevun and Prak are doing pre-payload from fourteen hours ago, Lithup of Ketel and Gruten are doing post-payload from fourteen hours ago. I'm adding you to pre-payload." 

"You don't have anyone running trigger analysis?"

"It's been fourteen hours since the virus hit; you think we didn't do that first thing?" Prak says.  

"Read the report," Fevun adds, _murderous bitch_ so clearly hanging onto the end of his demand Emma is almost surprised he didn't say it out loud.

"I did. It was shoddy."

"Hey," Fevun starts, on the cusp of standing up, but Wilson stops him with a look and says, "You're here because Captain Novak got it in her head you could be helpful, and Lieutenant Commander Braeden knew we could contain you. Nobody actually _cares_ what you do."

"Then I will revise the trigger analysis," Emma offers placidly. ( _Making friends, I see,_ she can almost hear in the back of her mind, Dean's charm covering all manner of careful inspection. Emma was good at people, once, the subtle manipulations yielding positive results when she tried, but seven years dampened a lot of hard-won skills. Or at least the ability to care enough to try.) "And refrain from getting in your way."  

"Fine with us," Wilson says, and Emma falls into the lines of code, blocking their grumbled insults - and later their low murmurs of discussion - easily.

                                                                                ~

Logic bombs are activated by a predetermined event or condition, a particular date, time, system limit, other program presence, or action. It _is_ a shoddy report, even if that wasn't why Emma pushed to take it, but in their defense, trigger analysis is largely unreliable until the actual code is found and - if necessary - decrypted.

Emma still spends the first hour upgrading the report as much as possible. She creates a program to search through logs to highlight any signs of a new program or system interaction that took place just at the two week mark and not before. She sets up another program to scan for camouflage signs and get a better breakdown of capacity limits pre and post first payload activity. Last, she creates a third program to scan the historical and science databases of all Federation species and their enemies to check on the importance of the date of the payload activity. The time is strange - it wasn't two weeks between the blip and the second payload activity; it was three hundred and twenty-nine Standard hours, seven hours shy of a complete two weeks. A time bomb is not the first choice - the smallest thing could knock a ship's drop-off schedule off course, and why not err on the side of caution and put the value above the two-week mark - but she adds the number to the scanning program in case it has a cultural significance.

Finally, she splits her screen so the searches continue on the shared platform and privatizes her solo work. The obvious target is _The Hunter_ ; the crew alone has a number of important people - its Captain and XO are both foster daughters of two highly regarded admirals, to begin with - and the ship itself has some of the latest advances in technology Starfleet is capable of producing. But the ship spends the majority of its time in deep space, even further out in the empty black, and the virus could have waited months before striking, let their creator scavenge and destroy the ship and its crew at leisure and manufacture evidence to blame it on whatever species they wanted when Starfleet finally sent someone out there to check up on it. Not at the tail end of a drop-off chain and a day before receiving a new assignment; the virus creator is too smart to miss something that obvious.

She scrolls through the infected systems - communication (internal and external) completely destroyed; transporter system, shuttles and escape pods, long-range sensors, internal operations, warp core, propulsion, and the five systems that run the engines heavily infected but slightly controlled. She uses the access codes for an update on the seventeen blocks Braeden and Barnes were putting in place - they focused on weapons (external), shields, food, atmosphere, the helms console, life support...all obvious choices and except for one correctly chosen. According to downloaded reports Braeden's fear was unfounded; though the blocks could not stop the virus, they _were_ slowing it down, and the virus was not attempting to backtrack and follow new pathways instead. 

The programs let off a soft reminder chime and Emma checks the results, updating the trigger analysis report as she reads. There are, as she suspected, a number of significant events across the vast array of Federation species and enemies, and she carefully organizes them in likelihood, which involves speed reading through the various diplomatic corp reviews on what makes a species more or less likely to attack the Federation. (Xenology was not a common subject among her Tribe, and the Academy was laxer than their mission statement projected about their students mastering the subject; Emma was taught what species were able to build and how to fly to them, not their societal milestones.)

If _The Hunter_ is not the main target, than something in this area of half-abandoned outposts is; but then why bring _The Hunter_ into it at all? Emma, in a way, has been a sitting duck these past seven years, as have the seven other barely-filled outposts along the drop-off route. It would have been easy to attack any and all of them before Starfleet could send help. ( _If_ they would send help; Emma's protocol, after all, involves kill switches and small bombs, and though none of the other bases house disgraced contractors, Starfleet has always been cavalier about the greater good.)      

A new group of engineers come into the lab then, and Emma ignores the way the crews greet each other, offering an extraneous amount of negative adjectives to explain her presence and detailed instructions on their work history. Emma understands the reason for a continuous rotation of crewmembers - so fresh eyes and rested minds stood between the virus and the ship - and Emma ignores it. Or tries to, until her tablet beeps two hours later with the message:  

_In case you forgot your near-death experience today - Nurse Chang set up an extra sleep cot by Kevin in the Med Bay for you. You have ten minutes, or I'll drag you there.      - C. Novak_

It is strange - that she cares, that her threats are so pedestrian (familiar) and her bribe is so basic, (that it works) - but Emma sets the programs to inform her when they finish running, locks her station down, and heads back to Med Bay.

Chang offers a careful greeting and points her to where Kevin has been moved in their effort to save power in the medical wing. As suggested, there is a sleep cot, and also a pair of regulation pajamas and another crew uniform for the next day. She draws the privacy screen fully closed and changes before carelessly dropping onto the cot. She studies Kevin for a long moment; he is still, nearing the end of his medically induced coma, but alive. Alive, and real, and Emma curls so that she can continue to watch the slow rise and fall of his chest as she falls asleep. 


	4. track the stars

Childhood training has her waking and sitting up just before Chang pokes through the privacy screening. She hands Emma a small hygiene kit. "Ten minutes and Dr. Birch will be by to start bringing him out of the coma, if you want to get changed."  
  
"Thank you. For the clothing and cot, too."  

"Of course," she says, and ducks out.

Emma pauses, rubs her hands over her face. She switches clothes and folds the pajamas and the previous uniform under Kevin's biobed. He'll either be in it when she needs them next or they'll throw them into the stack for the garment processor and she'll borrow from his room if he gets relocated. She ducks into the bathroom and performs morning ablutions; as an Amazon she doesn't have the same sweat glands as Terrans and needs to shower less often, but she will try to make the opportunity for at least a sonic shower tonight anyway.

She folds the sleep cot and stashes it between the biofunction monitor and bed, then stands in parade rest near his feet. Underneath the effects of multiple trauma, he looks better than the last time she saw him in person. Not that that was hard. The last time she had seen him in person, he had been a recovering victim of kidnap and torture, and testifying at his best friend's trial; no matter how tiring his position on the bridge crew of an active exploration ship, the emotional toil is likely infinitely easier.

Birch comes in and gives her a professional once-over. "I'm assuming you're gonna run off with the engineers after this, but we're gonna order you breakfast and you can eat it while we make sure Tran doesn't have any lasting damage." He hooks his foot through the small stool and swings it to her. Chang is already carrying a tray with a covered container, and Emma takes it gratefully as they don gloves and go through the process of bringing someone out of a medical coma.

(It is only now that she has a chance to be grateful the communication system has been down this whole time; Linda Tran did not need to spend twenty-four hours with her son's condition hanging over her head.)   

It should be anti-climatic - she knew he would be okay - and it is a quiet process, but when Kevin slowly blinks his eyes open, mouth making a soft smacking noise she remembers from hangovers signifying it was dry, she had to plant her boots just a little harder into the ground. He glances around tiredly as Birch starts to explain the shuttle crash, his crewmates’s fates, his own recent medical history, his eyes opening in slowly growing recognition as they land on Emma, and then she watches the gathering thoughts of the past day catch up to him.

There's a spike on the biofunction monitor and Chang is moving in to murmur, hand on his arm, while Birch places himself in Kevin's line of sight. This, in a way, is routine, and comforting for it; Birch has him go through a series of mental and bedridden physical tests, Chang offering instruments or sips of water or helping Kevin move just as Birch calls for it.

"Bed rest for at least another ten hours, and then we'll see. I'm kicking your friend out in five minutes so talk fast." Birch and Chang leave, Chang pulling the privacy screen back in place behind them.

"Emma," Kevin starts, eyes tired and grateful and so familiar she has to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from crying, like she's a little girl again who needs tricks to keep her emotions in check.

"You promised non-replicator chocolate bars," she interrupts, swaying closer to the side of the bed. "I would hate for someone else to receive them when they packed up your belongings."

"I thought chocolate was for the weak?" he says. His hand stretches out and Emma grabs it, too tightly, she has superior strength and she must be bruising him, but he says nothing, just squeezes back.

"I have reevaluated. Chocolate is obviously a superior treat and merits effort for acquisition."    

He's blinking again, obviously fighting his own body and any drugs circulating his system. "Do you know what happened?"

"Do you?" Novak counters, striding through the screen with Birch behind her back.

"Captain." Kevin moves slightly, like he was going to salute her, then subsides when she places a hand on his leg with a quick shake of her head. "The shuttle... Paterson wanted to fly but when we disengaged...I had to restart the takeoff, and we were...Paterson mentioned trying it again but I wanted to get to E- to the base, and then... all of a sudden the shuttle was falling. I tried, fuck- " The biofunction monitoring is spiking again, and he shakes his own head when Birch moves forward, hypospray in hand. "Emma, you know -"

"I know. I know you did."

"Everything just stopped working. I couldn't- they train you for backups but shuttles don't just go completely offline, not like that. I could see your vehicle coming up, knew what you were trying to do so I tried to help, felt us lock in and tried to keep it steady... and then we crashed and rolled and...  fuck, Paterson, Cap, I was always so short with him-"

"You tutored him in your off time so he could get his shuttle flight license, you weren't short with him, Kevin."

"Still, I... He didn't do that. A bad detachment doesn't do that, Cap, and I reattached no problem."

"There's a virus. It took out the shuttle at apparently the worst damn time."

Kevin rolls the thought over. "That blip, from two weeks ago..."

"Yeah." Novak patted his leg. "We're getting it taken care of. Now Aaron is going to give you some more of the nice drugs, and when you wake up it’ll be Channing’s turn to welcome you back to the land of the living." 

"Shit. That's not what she’s gonna do."

"Nope," Novak says, popping the p. "But until then you can sleep."

She steps aside so Birch can depress the plunger into Kevin. Immediately his eyelids start to drift close, voice slurring slightly. "Aaron, pal, Aaron, keep me under."   

"Only way to escape this is death, and I have too much pride in my work."

"I'm glad you're okay," Novak adds.

"Emma," he says, his hand loosening in hers. "Emma always has my..."

Novak sweeps her eyes to their hands, and Emma calmly slips her hand away as Kevin finally succumbs. "Apparently." She glances back to Emma's eyes. "You ready for the next round?"

"Of course."

                                                                                ~

"You're close," Novak comments as they head back, Emma to the engineering lab and Novak to - she assumes - the bridge.

"Yes."

"He said you met at the Academy. You and Channing and him."

"Yes."

Novak expression is disgruntled, but Emma can tell there's a faint tinge of amusement to it. "Don't overrun me with the details, please." They turn down the last hallway. "So Ben has you focused on trigger analysis?"

"I am sure careful thought was put into where I best use my skills."

"Uh-huh." Novak stops just outside the engineering lab and Emma replicates the action. Novak studies Emma, then quirks a smile. "I'm pulling you after the next bridge meeting. I need this virus shut down, not studied. But until then... I trust Kevin, with my life and the life of my crew. And he trusts you. You have another four hours."

"Captain." Emma pauses. The Starfleet uniform feels heavier, in this moment, and Emma straightens her shoulders that minute inch more. Gratitude has always felt like taffy inside her chest. "Four hours."  

She steps inside, ignores the glares from the other nine engineers. The other programs she had set have finished, and she first scans through their results. There seems to be no signs of camouflage, and all capacity markers look correct. The list of system interactions also looks correct; the only interesting note is that the shuttle system has an extra usage compared to everything else. But Kevin explained that, because Paterson apparently screwed up a simple detachment and Kevin - because Emma had been there for all of his flying training - was taught to re-attach and start over when there was time to do so. Everything else appeared in... order.

                                                                                ~

Emma's senior flight instructor was a large Andorian with insomnia and the ugliest antenna accessories; he told Terrans to call him Fred and always kept an extra pair of goggles to slap on Emma's head. His first and third spouses were both language instructors but it was his second - a chef named Chtevok - he took the majority of his phrases from.

_Distract them with flavor and you can hide all manner of ingredients in your dish._

(If _The Hunter_ wasn't the target then why attack when it was in this airspace? But if the target was the Loavovinette Star, why not let _The Hunter_ leave?)  
  
She goes back to the list of infected systems and the blocks. Communication going down first makes sense, especially if that was the virus's entry point into the ship. The transporter, shuttles, and escape pods mean people can't leave. The long-range sensors means they can't see someone coming, but the shields and weapons stayed intact much longer. The various engine systems, warp core, and propulsion mean they can't move; then the systems designed to keep the crew alive were the next target.

Can't communicate, can't escape, can't move. But the actual navigation unit hadn't been touched. It didn't matter, because navigation didn't mean much if they couldn't move, but it would have been so easy to follow the pathway from the long-range sensors to hit them next. It's why they assumed it would be a good place to put a block; it was, in fact, the only place they put a block that didn't get hit. 

The communication system is compromised; the message Emma sends to Novak and Alex is simply a request for their presence.  
  
                                                                                ~

The whole bridge crew is in the conference room when Emma gets there. She wants to hesitate but doesn't let herself, speaking before they even quiet down. "I completed the trigger analysis revision."

Braeden is already scowling, fingers typing on his tablet. "Look, great, but we need to -"

"The virus completely destroyed the communication system first." Novak raises a hand but Braeden is already subsiding. "It then took out the ability to enter or exit the ship by targeting the transporter, shuttles, escape pods, and doors. Next it took out the long-range sensors so the ship couldn't track the airspace. Since then, it’s been targeting the rest of the systems; not enough to completely shut them down, but enough to keep us busy."

"The blocks have been holding," Barnes says, but not like she's disagreeing.      

"Yes. Surprisingly, because Braeden was right at yesterday's meeting; this virus is smart, and creative, and there was a high probability it would sidestep them and just attack different systems, or attack the same systems but from a different angle."

"It _has_ attacked the majority of the systems at this point," Bell says.

"Except..." Alex trails off, eyebrow raising.

"Navigation. We haven't had to touch navigation." Barnes’s voice picks up speed. "After all, the virus isn't actively going after it, the block we know works is still in place, and the Chief Navigator just woke up from a coma. Why wouldn't we deprioritize it?" 

"What was the trigger?" Braeden asks quietly, and for the first time it feels like he was looking at _her_ , and not everything she represented to him.

"The virus payload activity was triggered after the shuttle re-embarked for the eighth time. That would have meant the communication system would have been shutting down as you were exiting this airspace, and protocol dictates you are to head to the nearest active base. You wouldn't have even known you couldn't leave the ship until you reached the base, and then the infected systems would have kept you busy. Except when the shuttle was taking off for the last drop off, Paterson made a mistake and Kevin had to re-attach, triggering the payload activity early." 

Smith frowns. "So why was the navigation system untouched?"

"The virus was made to isolate the ship, but more than that it was a distraction, for you and for the base. The virus's real purpose was to enter the navigation system and copy the drop off supply sequence before the mission was completed and the map got automatically wiped from the system."

"Why?"

Alex answers. "A reasonable assumption is because those are not just low-level Starfleet outposts."


	5. hanlon's razor

"Bullshit," Chambers explodes, and Braeden points at her in agreement and says, "Yeah, that. Hiding labs in this airspace goes against five of their own rules and at least one treaty."

"Hence why we were not informed of the true recipients of the drop-off supplies," Alex counters.

"It's also monumentally stupid," Barnes adds. "I understand the idea of hiding in plain sight, but if there was an attack, no one could get to them in time. It's too vulnerable."

"The outposts have been there for fifty years. Everyone knows they're low priority for Starfleet." Smith points at Emma, face growing a blotchy red as he talks. "Hell, they sent her to complete parole on one of them. They're a perfect hiding spot."  
  
"People don't talk about them," Channing adds. "They are that indistinct. Just enough to be shitty, not big enough to make the list of joke assignments to tease people with. The only wave they made was _when_ Emma was assigned to them, actually." 

"Another check mark on the monumentally stupid list," Barnes mutters.

"They _are_ in a good location," Bell says, and Chambers makes a noise like she technically agrees but that's as far as she'll admit to. "Not for defense, but as a jumping off point between a regular Starfleet base and several civilizations on Starfleet’s Watch List, with the added bonus it would mean Starfleet was coming from an unexpected direction."

"They were supposed to do better." Braeden knocks his fist on the table from where it was resting, hard. "After -" He chokes on the words, slides his gaze away.

"After me." Emma's face is composed, and she keeps her hands relaxed; no amount of pretty speeches during her trial and sentencing was going to turn Starfleet transparent. "They missed some, apparently."

"Don't make this a joke," Braeden starts, and it's funny because this is the first time she looks at him and sees Dean Winchester, when he is saying something so antithetical to his father's persona. "Don't, not when you're wearing the _uniform_ and- "

"We need to warn Starfleet," Channing says, cutting him off and any responses Emma may have reacted with, directing the conversation back to the point. It's not a defense, but it's also a concession Emma wasn't expecting Channing to ever make; the uniform means a higher ideal to Channing too. "That just became a higher priority."  
  
"Asher, how's the plan to get down to Starov Base and contact Starfleet coming?" Novak asks.

"I have a route down, and Channing's created a light system I can use on the ground that she can translate on the ship. D-Corp gave me a little review of the best way to reach a Starfleet member who can do something with our warning."

"Good. Channing is right, warning Starfleet and the hidden bases just became a higher priority. I'm going to have to send you down ASAP. Josephine, start ship preparations; I'll make an announcement as soon as Starfleet relays orders. Krissy and Tracy, finalize your plans and have a report ready for me by the time Asher hits the ground. Ben and Alex, you're working on eliminating this fucking virus from my ship; we have a rescue mission. Emma, you're with me. Dismissed."  
  
                                                                                ~

It takes Novak more time to get Birch to dose Kevin awake than it does to update them on what's happening. Birch swears quietly but seems unsurprised; he offers Novak a distracted nod at her dismissal and is already calling for his people before he leaves Kevin's privacy curtain.   
  
Kevin just looks confused.

"Kevin, I need your help mapping the possible locations and figuring out the best flight plan with Emma. Aaron said his dose would give you enough of a boost to clear out the cobwebs but I can call him back if a rescue mission is a little too complicated for you at the moment."

"Screw you, Cap," Kevin says, on reflex, and then winces because Linda Tran - whether she was present or not - made her feelings about rank and respect extremely clear. "Look, I get where the theory is coming from but they really are half-abandoned outposts."

"How could you possibly know that?"

Kevin's gaze flickers to Emma and away. "Hypothetically, when someone's best friend gets sentenced to one of those outposts, one does some research."

"Hypothetically that person would be breaking a lot of laws," Novak says, and Emma can't tell if she's amused underneath the general concern of the situation or if Kevin just earned another mark in his file; like Emma, he is too smart for Starfleet to completely dismiss, but his association with her could easily keep him from moving up the ranks. "How sure are you?"

"Very." Novak mouth starts to open and Kevin interrupts. "Cap, the virus was probably going after the map for the bases. It's easy to get the supply inventory to know how many drops we were making so they could program the trigger; they wouldn't have even needed technology, just bribe or trick someone in Supplies to reveal the number. If they had the skills to invent this virus, they probably could have also gotten the map off Starfleet databases too, but maybe they wanted the challenge. Maybe it's an attack on Starfleet, maybe's it’s just some lone asshole showing off. I agree with the assessment that the map is what they were after. But the map itself... those bases, outside of Emma's, are useless. They're relics kept around because Starfleet won't destroy them. And the people who know Emma's isn't useless also know that Starfleet has contingency plans in place in case her base gets compromised."

"So you really broke some laws," Novak murmurs, voice hard, but Kevin doesn't flinch. He never has, not even after he escaped the Defigere Et Depurgare Crown, not even when his best friend was arrested and he was told to keep his mouth shut. Kevin Tran does not flinch. It is why Emma let herself be handcuffed, and it is why she spent seven years in a place that could be destroyed at the flick of a button.  
  
(Emma was taught faith along with everything else; Kevin made her believe.)

Novak finally sighs. "Since you apparently know these bases better than I thought, prioritize a flight route that cuts out as much of the leisurely pace as we took the first time and figure out the best order. I'm swinging by in twenty to grab Emma again and then you get to sleep until Asher reports back from the ground. I believe you, but we need a contingency plan in place."

She leaves, already contacting Alex to meet her on the bridge as she strides out.

Emma watches Kevin from the corner of her eye. "You know the self-destructive mechanism on Starfleet's end gets a new subroute every time I fix it."

"That's brand new information," Kevin says, voice flat. "Maybe you should stop fixing it then." 

"And there's easier ways to destroy your own ambition," Emma says, voice just as flat. "Feel free to start leaving me out of it."

"Emma," Kevin says, making sure to catch her eye. "The moment Crowley got me it was over; your trial just brought it out into the open. You want to do me a favor?"

"Saving you from falling out of the sky wasn't enough?" The smile she offers can only be called that on a technicality - no matter what he says, her trial made a difference - and it fades quickly enough. "What is your favor?"  
  
Kevin Tran does not flinch. "Stop thinking of _hegh'bat’es_ as an escape hatch."  
  
                                                                                ~

It takes them less than ten Standard minutes to plan the route; as Novak is probably aware (since competent Captains are generally aware of their crews' quirks and Novak is considered an excellent Captain), Kevin tends to make one navigation course according to the parameters of the mission, and several on hypothetical scenarios. Having to travel to all the bases in the fastest way possible is an obvious hypothetical, and even still dazed from healing injuries he relays it to Emma easily. The only question mark is if Emma or Asher will pilot it, and therefore whether they will reach each base at the highest speed estimate or the assumed one other pilots can meet.

They spend the rest of the time picking up the old debate about 3D mapping using items found in their old dorm's supply closet when Novak swings by, nodding her head for Emma to follow her even as Birch swoops in behind her to drug Kevin back into sleep. She exchanges a quick goodbye with Kevin and follows Novak along the usual path they take back to the meeting room.

"Were you trying to get back to your base so you could sequence a self-destruct mechanism?"  
  
Her voice is cool and her face is blank; Emma matches her. "Yes." It's not quite the truth - despite what Kevin implied, there are ways to destroy all her work without killing herself - but that's not a distinction necessary for people who do not care about her life. "I have strict orders about situations involving possible attacks."

Novak turns into Emma's path, and Emma fumbles as she stops herself from running into her. "Were you planning to warn me about them?"

Emma knows the shape of this. "I was planning to tell Lieutenant Smith before he left. You do not have code clearance and it was not emergent; according to regulations Starfleet 12.32.95 I was not planning to tell you about them."

Novak lets the briefest flash of her anger appear. "Legality is always so personally influenced, isn't it?" she says, referring to Kevin's admittance of breaking regulations for her. "Well, my crew and their safety is _always_ personal. Do you understand?"

 _I won't be on your ship long enough for it to matter,_ Emma does not say. "I understand."

"Good." Novak turns and starts to walk again, Emma quickly slipping back into the space next to her. "You're going to walk Asher through everything he needs to know about your base, and then you're going to help Ben and Alex destroy this fucking virus."

"Yes, Captain." 

  
                                                                                ~

Smith does not like her, but he listens to her careful instructions and repeats them back to her without comment when she demands it. He is abrupt in leaving like Birch, though Birch's actions are due to medical training and a need to be in many places at once; Smith is just trying to be rude to Dean Winchester's killer.

Braeden - either because Alex is right there or Novak already talked to him - sets her up in the elimination room this time. They are closer than Emma expected, and she falls into the lines of code easily. She barely takes note when Alex leaves for Smith’s relaying his answers from Starfleet to Channing from the ground. She barely takes note when Braeden falls into a discussion with her about one of the sections like she was just any other engineer in his department. And she barely takes note at the way this feels, the hum of crew around her as she narrows into Starfleet problems and takes them apart.

There's no need to describe the moment when they discover the answer; the only person she would ever try for is Kevin, and he knows the feeling, the way it sweeps through and between each person. Emma was never attached to large groups of people, not even on Amazon, but if the reign of her punishment taught her anything it is that even she needs this. Group pride was bred into her in Amazon and honed in Starfleet, and it has been a long time since she experienced it.

Braeden reshuffles the crew into smaller groups and attaches them each to a system to check for complete virus elimination and corrections, but the atmosphere is relaxed, enthusiastic instead of tense. He sends the last of them off and then looks at her, but before he says anything his combadge goes off and he offers a quiet confirmation into it.

"Captain wants you on the bridge with us," he says, and she follows him in silence all the way there.

  
                                                                                ~

There is a panel of three Admirals on the screen when they enter the bridge. Braeden goes to his station and Emma moves to stand by Bell, hands unclasped by her sides to show her lack of weapons but otherwise in parade rest. Kevin and Smith are already at the helm, with Birch hovering nearby like Kevin is going to faint and he needs to catch him. When Alex enters through the side room and all the bridge crew is there, Novak nods at the panel to begin. 

Emma recognizes the three of them - Turner from her trial, Harvelle from the speech at their Academy graduation, Barnes from the news cycles. There is something hard about Novak, almost brittle about Alex; they are the two that would have already been informed, and Emma braces herself for what the Admirals will say.

"The following information is Classified Code Violet, Sub-Mark 13798 and any and all violations will be subject to Criminal Code 45-67D." Harvelle glances at all of them, waits for their murmured assent before she continues. They are being recorded, and this will be archived somewhere in case of violations, but in truth verbal consent is unnecessary - they all signed contracts, when entering the Academy, when starting their term on this ship.   

"For the past seven months, Starfleet has commissioned a Federation-based, security-coded team to explore the use of viruses against high caliber ships in an effort to download their maps and then wipe out their ships. Four weeks ago they entered testing stage for Virus 93A46, code-name Wipe-Out. You were selected and infected with this virus during the glitch on Loavo Base, with two objectives - to see if the virus worked as designed and to see how a crew of your skill reacted to it. We are pleased with what the preliminary reports show."  

"We should have been informed of the test," Alex bites off.

"Your objection has been noted," Turner says.  
  
"One of my crewmembers died." Novak is still in her Captain's chair, her face blank, but her voice holds the ice of leftover anger. "Two more were incredibly injured, along with one of your contractors."

"We regret the loss of life during any mission, whether in training or against enemy forces." Turner sounds like he means it; Turner sounds like he's said these words hundreds of times.   
  
"Ensign Paterson will receive the Medal of Duty. It will be presented to his family at his funeral," Barnes says. " Lieutenant Commander Tran and Sub-Lieutenant Borgins will receive the Medal of Service and will be trained for all interviews they will conduct on Starfleet's behalf. We appreciate your service, and hope you realize the leaps we have just made in our diplomatic and warfare abilities.

"You have thirty-six hours to finish all system checks and complete your reports before returning back to Loavo Base. Outside of Lieutenant Commander Tran and Sub-Lieutenant Borgins for interviews, your crew will be granted one week’s leave after your return. Ensign Emma, Clan Androktones of the Molpadia Tribe, you will be contacted on Starov Base about your role within twelve hours."

"Admirals," Novak says to confirm the orders.

"Captain," Harvelle offers, and then they wink away.

There is a half moment of silence.

"Friendly fire." Birch has a tight grip on Kevin's shoulder, and she sees Kevin reach up and squeeze his wrist in sympathy. "This was all because of friendly fire."

She watches Chambers and Barnes exchange glances, the way Braeden and Bell look mad but not betrayed. Smith is rubbing his palms over his face and Channing looks disappointed. Kevin, eyes hard, is not surprised.

She does not contemplate what it says that only Alex looks disgusted, looks like it was one hit too many. You put on the uniform and you accept the risks, and sometimes... the idea was interwoven into the Academy, designed to mold the minds for service above self.

Novak speaks. "Jim Paterson deserved better. Kevin," and she waits for him to look at her, "You deserved better. Klin Borgins deserved better." She glances at Emma but doesn't add her name. "Losing people is never easy, and that it came from Starfleet's mistakes makes it worse. I'll make a ship-wide announcement for the classification code. We'll have a memorial service for Jim tomorrow morning before alpha shift; Alex, work with Penelope and get it set up. Ben, you're leading cleanup and system checks. I want to make sure the virus is absolutely clear. Emma, help Aaron get Kevin back to Med Bay and get another checkup. Once your report is finished, we'll transport you back to your Base. Tracy, I'll be contacting Jim’s parents if you want to join me. Channing, start a press release about the situation and create a memorial text, then send it to the brass for approval. Krissy, Josephine, Asher - finish system checks and get some damn sleep." Novak stands up from her chair, pausing and shaking her head. "This was a bad fucking mission, but I'm impressed and grateful for your service. Dismissed."   

Emma walks behind Kevin and Birch as they leave. She can hear Channing answer someone's question, "Because if her name gets attached to this it goes from a small training accident to news," can hear Braeden tell Smith, "I didn't even think we were close to something like that," can hear Barnes say, "We need to re-do virus blocks and-"  
  
And then the door closes behind her, and Emma follows Kevin and Birch down the hallways of the ship.


	6. a quick goodbye

She gets a quick but thorough medical check from Birch, thanks him and Chang for their efforts - it is up to them if they want to read it for services rendered upon her body or Kevin's - and follows the basic mental blueprint of the ship's schematics to one of the small offshoot rooms that holds a computer. There's an almost adrenaline-lined fight to writing reports - not the dry recitation of facts, but the way she has to break each memory down to its bare components, defend decisions without offering a hint of apology for her actions or resistance to any corrections that will be offered. She repeats exactly how she rescued the shuttle, her work on the trigger analysis and what she believed it meant, erases most of the conversation with Kevin about why that theory wasn't possible, outlines her small effort in the virus elimination. She signs it and sends it to Novak for approval, and so that she knows exactly what she's telling Starfleet.

She goes back to Kevin in Med Bay, forces herself to enter the privacy curtain and stand by his bed. He looks back at her.

"Most of the supplies were destroyed in the shuttle crash. Cap's gonna get permission to make another stop after leave ends, before we get our next assignment. Might as well be us, since we're still the only ones in the area."

"Guess I'll be there," Emma offers, dredging up a smile. "Gotta build a new vehicle before any more Premis Coast vacations."

"Guess I need to find some more chocolate." Kevin never asked her if she regretted it. She thinks maybe he would have, before he escaped Crowley, but he never once asked her if she would take it back. "I'll see you soon, Emma."

She clasps his hand, squeezes it, offers the Amazon farewell. "May your weapon bring honor, until we meet again." 

He looks like he wants to say something, but in the end he just nods.

  
                                                                                ~

The crewmember in the hallway directs her to the previous meeting room when she asks for Novak's location. Maybe she was there, but currently it is only occupied by Chambers and Barnes. The door is ajar, and she knows she needs to move before they notice her, but her feet feel rooted to the spot. They are standing close together, the intimacy obvious even without the way Chambers has one hand cupping Barnes's cheek, Barnes with her eyes closed and head tilted close. A quiet moment, and Emma-

Emma does not want to mate and she does not want children, but there are no words in Amaz for longing without results, for that type of touch without anything beyond it. Channing had offered her different words once: asexual in Standard, riguvik in Vulcan, thundik in Byna, labels she could take and make her own. But knowing her own mind - whether she had the vocabulary for it or not - was never the issue. She had one goal for so long and then she was isolated like she was a danger to others, and even with Kevin she never knew how to explain it wasn't her side of the equation that was missing; she has three more years on her sentence, and even then Starfleet will not let her go.

Their lips touch, gentle, and Emma backs away.  
  
                                                                                ~

She finds Novak with Alex in the transporter room, the tech on duty already dismissed. They are silent when she enters but the atmosphere is tense, and Emma briefly wonders if Alex will try to leave Starfleet before her contract is up for renewal. She has the familial relationship of two Admirals and an open spot in the Vulcan Science Academy; she has the strings if she wants to pull them.

"You know you can take another two hours," Novak says bluntly. "We beamed up the debris from the accident but the system checks are still going on."

"I am ready," Emma says. It is too fragile to try for another conversation with Channing, pointless to try for one with Braeden. Two hours is not enough time with Kevin to make it anything but a longer goodbye.

"Your report was signed and added to our file," Novak says. "We thank you for your service, Ensign."

"It has been educational in watching your ship and crew." She moves to the beam, waits until Alex starts to enter in the sequence before she adds, "It is a good crew."

Alex presses the last button, and Emma is transported back to where she started.   
  
                                                                                ~

The ship is long gone by the time Starfleet contacts her again, far beyond their estimated twelve hours.  
  
Knowing them, she writes a report on how the crew functioned as well as a preliminary report on how to improve (and for when it leaks, block) the virus. She goes through her logs to check exactly what Smith did while he was here. She studies the crash site, the flecks of vessel fluid and blood the only things left behind. She watches the news cycle, the way Starfleet packages friendly fire into something acceptable for its audience.  
  
She takes a shower.

It is harder than she expected to be back on her Base, harder than even she had anticipated. It's not just the size, but the loss of a ship beneath her feet; she is not meant to be stationary, not meant to be anything but flying through the stars. If it hadn't been a training accident, if she had gotten behind the helm...

Admiral Mills is the one to contact her. She's grayer than the last time Emma saw her, but she has a vitality that firmly pitted a long road of pain into a strength of will. Of all the brass, she is easily the most admirable.

She goes through Emma's debriefing efficiently. If there is any anger that her daughters’s ship was used this way, she has already buried it under her rank.  
  
When Emma finishes, Mills leans back in her seat. "We were impressed with Lieutenant Smith's ability to use a thruster pack to go from ship to ground and have granted his earlier request to transfer back to the Academy in an instructor position. Lieutenant Sheridan has been promoted to Chief Pilot. Unfortunately, we are short-staffed and the members of the flight crew aboard _The Hunter_ are either not fit for long-term assignment as Second Flight Controller or have not completed the necessary testing to become officers."

Emma keeps herself very, very still. "We were impressed with your actions in rescuing the shuttle. According to reports, you conducted yourself well while on the ship and provided necessary insight into the virus. We are therefore modifying your current contract to include a six month assignment as the Second Flight Controller for _The Hunter_ until the appropriate member can be moved into position. You will finish all current assignments and wipe your work from the outpost. _The Hunter_ will pick you up at the end of their leave and return you for the next scheduled series of drop-offs along the Loavovinette Star. You will not receive an increase in pay or rank and will continue as Contractor Sub-Class L until your original sentence is completed, whatever your next assignment is. Do you accept?"

She wonders how much harder it will be to leave the ship after six months and come back to this place. She wonders if Mills meant to imply they may keep her on after six months. She wonders how many of the bridge crew issued complaints, how much harassment the Engineering Department will subject her to. She wonders just how far Admiral Mills’s kindness to Dean Winchester's killer extends.  

"Yes." Her voice is slightly hoarse, but she doesn't bother to try to clear it. "I accept."

Emma has always just wanted to fly.        


	7. Notes for the Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Below are notes for the story - a dictionary in case you're unable to hover over words, the crew roster, species notes, and the resources used while writing the fic.

**__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
**

**DICTIONARY**  
_[in chronological order as the words appear in the fic]_

Note: Amazon (planet/people/culture), Amazonian (person), Amaz (language)

_may your weapon bring honor_ \- the Standard, shortened version of an Amazon farewell; the full phrase is "May your weapon bring honor, until we meet again." 

 _mauk-to'Vor_ \- A Klingon/Amazon ritual that allowed one to kill a disgraced sibling to restore their honor in the afterlife. Amazons may also allow another blood member, close friend or even stranger (if they complete a separate ritual) to do the killing.   
  
_bIHnuch_ \- The Klingon/Amaz word for coward.  
  
s _to-vo-kor_ \- The afterlife of the honored dead. In Klingon mythology, one could enter by dying in battle, dying while performing a heroic deed, allowing themselves to die in a specific ritual (like Mauk-to'Vor), or having a relative honor them as they themselves enter into Sto-vo-kor. For Amazons, there is no set heroic deed; the Elders of the Tribe weigh the honor of the deed with the honor of the life lived. They also do not believe a relative can honor them in their own death. 

 _tafar-wonil-tal_ \- Amazon childhood mental discipline training; shares some similarities to Vulcan mind disciplines 

 _cukee_ \- the Amaz cry when greeting death in battle

 _mevak_ \- a traditional Klingon/Amazon knife used in rituals. Klingon knives have two blades - one for extinguishing the physical life, one for freeing the soul. Amazon designs differ based on Tribe, and have a number of rituals surrounding the receiving and passing of their dagger.

 _rive'es-nerek_ \- Amaz for unworthy, esp in battle

 _ho-rah'es'toi_ \- one of several Amaz words for the ritual to kill one's father; this one has connotations of failing to complete the ritual but fulfilling the death

 _cascade virus_ \- a type of computer virus that has the effect of wiping all data on a computer system

 _infection mechanism_   - (aka infection vector): the part of the virus code that tells it how to spread

 _payload_ \- the actual body/data that performs the actual malicious purpose of the virus

 _trigger_ \- (aka logic bomb): what causes the virus to spread; for instance, the virus can be activated on a specific date or time (aka a time bomb), by the particular presence of another program, by the capacity of the disk exceeding some limit, or by an action (like double-clicking) that opens a particular file

 _logic bomb_ \- (aka the trigger): what causes the virus to spread; for instance, the virus can be activated on a specific date or time (aka a time bomb), by the particular presence of another program, by the capacity of the disk exceeding some limit, or by an action (like double-clicking) that opens a particular file 

 _hegh'bat’es_ \- the traditional ritual suicide when an Amazon does not complete the training and/or rituals associated with adulthood; still practiced among several tribes

 _riguvik_ \- Vulcan for lacking interest in or desire for sex; having no evident sex or sex organs; sexless

 _thundik_ \- Byna for sex. Bynars are generally asexual and therefore their word for sex also expresses their lack of interest/desire for it. 

 

**__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
**

**CREW ROSTER**

**_The Hunter_** **Crew - Rank, Species, and Positions**

  * Captain Claire Novak (Human): Commanding Officer (generally known as the Captain)
  * Commander Alex (Vulcan): First Officer/XO (second in command; responsible for implementing captain orders, preparing duty rosters, managing ship resources, and evaluating crew) and Chief Science Officer (responsible for coordinating the science department in all fields)
  * Lieutenant Commander Channing Ngo (Human): Chief Communication Officer (responsible for managing all incoming and outgoing transmissions in any format, often provided cultural and diplomatic advice to the Captain, in charge of the communication department)
  * Lieutenant Commander Josephine Barnes (Klingon): Chief Operations Officer (responsible for internal system controls and sensor system usage) and Third Officer (fourth in command; takes over when Captain, First Officer, and Second Officer are unavailable)
  * Commander Krissy Chambers (Klingon): Chief Tactical Officer (responsible for ship's weaponry and shields) and Second Officer (third in command; takes over when Captain and First Officer are unavailable)
  * Lieutenant Commander Tracy Bell (Human): Chief Security Officer (responsible for ship security, external and internal threat assessments, and conducting criminal investigations)
  * Lieutenant Commander Benjamin "Ben" Isaac Braeden (Human): Chief Engineering Officer (in charge of engineering and ship technical problems)
  * Lieutenant Commander Doctor Aaron Birch (Human): Chief Medical Officer, aka CMO (the main surgeon and head of the medical department, also has the ability to remove anyone from active duty no matter their rank for sound medical reasons) and Head Counselor (qualified psychiatrist)
  * (OC) Penelope Hastings (Bolian): Yeoman (personal assistant to the Captain)
  * Lieutenant Commander Kevin Tran (Human): Chief Navigator (responsible for determining the positions, speeds, and trajectories of the ship and other objects in space), Head Stellar Cartographer (in charge of making maps and projections of space), and Second Tactical Officer (second in command of ship's weaponry and shields)
  * (episode 1.18) Lieutenant Asher Smith (Human): Chief Pilot (flies the ship, often considered the Second Navigator but not the real position) and Engineer Officer
  * (episode 8.4/10.4) Lieutenant Kate Sheridan (Acamarian): Second Flight Controller (back-up pilot and navigator that must remain on Bridge during all firefights) and Science Officer
  * (OC) Ensign Amy Chang (Acamarian): Medical Officer (like others, doubles as paramedic)
  * (OC) Ensign Jim Paterson (Human): Flight Officer
  * (OC) Sub-Lieutenant Klin Borgins (Cardassian): Security Officer
  * (OC) Sub-Lieutenant Andi Wilson (Human): Engineer Officer
  * (OC) Ensign Mr'aia Prak (Caitian): Engineer Officer
  * (OC) Ensign Lithup of Ketel (Natrin): Engineer Officer
  * (OC) Petty Crew Jesse Cagen (Human): Engineer member
  * (OC) Petty Crew Hersk Gruten (Bothan): Engineer member
  * (OC) Petty Crew An Li (Human): Engineer member
  * (OC) Petty Crew Henry Salas (Human): Engineer member
  * (OC) Petty Crew Ath Fevun (Nausicaan): Engineer member
  * (OC) Petty Crew Herschel Cohen (Human): Engineer member



** Other Characters: **

  * (Former Lieutenant) Ensign Emma, Clan Androktones of the Molpadia Tribe (Amazon): (Former Chief Pilot), (Former Engineer Officer), (Former Stellar Cartographer), Contractor Sub-Class L
  * (Former Captain) Dean Winchester (Human): (Former Commanding Officer), (Former Pilot), (Former Engineering Officer)
  * Admiral Jody Mills (Human): a member of Starfleet admiralty (aka the people in charge) 
  * Admiral Donna Hanscum (Talaxian): a member of Starfleet admiralty (aka the people in charge) 
  * Admiral Rufus Turner (Human): a member of Starfleet admiralty (aka the people in charge) 
  * Admiral Ellen Harvelle (Cardassian): a member of Starfleet admiralty (aka the people in charge) 
  * Admiral Pamela Barnes (Human): a member of Starfleet admiralty (aka the people in charge) 
  * Thafredrinian "Fred" Th'totral (Andorian): Senior Flight Instructor at Starfleet Academy



(mini-spoiler) side note: Dean was stripped of his rank and discharged posthumously after the evidence tying him to the Crown was found. Emma was demoted to Ensign (they didn't want to discharge her so she could keep working for them during her punishment/imprisonment) and classified as Contractor Sub-Class L.

 

**__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
**

**SPECIES NOTE**  
  
First a little Star Trek background history - Vulcan had a major societal shift led by this scientist/philosopher named Surak, where Vulcan went from more of a war/emotional society to a logical/pacifist society. During this time a group rejected Surak's teachings/reforms and started their own society, which became Romulans. (Vulcans are part of the Federation, which includes Earth/Terran and like 100+ other species. Vulcans technically share common ancestry with other groups like the Klingons. Vulcan itself and later the Federation - depending which canon/date your going by - have had wars with the Klingon and Romulan Empires.)   
  
Amazons are a specific species in this verse. They are another group that broke from Vulcan about a century after the Reformation (Surak's teachings took hold), rejecting specific segments of Surak's reforms. They originally intermingled with Klingons before breaking off from them too. So Amazons share a lot of Vulcan and Klingon values and languages and genetics, but are their own society. Inside of the Amazons are specific tribes, made up of (familial) clans.  
  
The Defigere Et Depurgare Crown is the Rowena-Crowley empire that emerged from the El Wars, which took place between the Angel and Demon species on Earth II and ended up having a lot of Terran causalities. Dean and his crew were major fighters and heroes in the El War.

Other species briefly mentioned: Natrins, [Bynars](http://www.startrek.com/database_article/bynars), and of course [Terrans](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Terran)

 

 **__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________**  
  
**RESOURCES**  
  
[Star Trek Canon Wiki: Memory Alpha](http://memory-alpha.wikia.com) & [Memory Beta](http://memory-beta.wikia.com) 

[Star Trek Database](http://www.startrek.com/database)

[Computer Virus](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Computer_virus)

[Vulcan Language Dictionary](http://www.starbase-10.de/vld/)

[Name Generator](http://www.fantasynamegenerators.com/)


End file.
